weet,
His clooas wor thin an old,
His face, tho' pinched, wor smilin sweet,--
His limbs wor numb wi' cold.

Th' wind whistled throo th' deserted street,
An snowflakes whirled abaat,--
It wor a sorry sooart o' neet,
For poor souls to be aght.
'Twor varry dark, noa stars or mooin,
Could shine throo sich a storm;--
Unless some succour turns up sooin,
God help that freezin form!

A carriage stops at th' varry haase,--
A sarvent oppens th' door;
A lady wi' a pale sad face,
Steps aght o'th' cooach to th' floor.
Her 'een fell on that huddled form,
Shoo gives a startled cry;
Then has him carried aght o'th' storm,
To whear its warm an dry.

Shoo tended him wi' jewelled hands,
An monny a tear shoo shed;
For shoo'd once had a darlin lad
But he, alas! wor dead.
This little waif seemed sent to cheer,
An fill her darlin's place;
An to her heart shoo prest him near,
An kissed his little face.

Wi' wonderin 'een he luk't abaat,
Dazzled wi' th' blaze o' leet,
Then drooped his heead, reight wearied aght
Wi' cold an wind an weet.
Then tenderly shoo tuckt him in
A little cosy bed,
An kissed once moor his cheek soa thin,
An stroked his curly head.

Noa owner coom to claim her prize,
Tho' mich shoo feear'd ther wod,
It seem'd a blessin dropt throo th' skies
A New Year's gift throo God.
An happiness nah fills her heart,
'At wor wi' sorrow cleft;
Noa wealth could tempt her nah to part,
Wi' her Heaven sent New Year's gift.

Uncle Ben.

A gradely chap wor uncle Ben
As ivver lived i'th' fowd:
He made a fortun for hissen,
An lived on't when he'r owd.
His yed wor like a snow drift,
An his face wor red an breet,
An his heart wor like a feather,
For he did the thing 'at's reet.

He wore th' same suit o' fustian clooas
He'd worn sin aw wor bred;
An th' same owd booits, wi' cappel'd tooas,
An th' same hat for his yed;
His cot wor lowly, yet he'd sing
Throo braik o' day till neet;
His conscience nivver felt a sting,
For he did the thing 'at's reet.

He wod'nt swap his humble state
Wi' th' grandest fowk i'th' land;
He nivver wanted silver plate,
Nor owt 'at's rich an grand;
He did'nt sleep wi' curtained silk
Drawn raand him ov a neet,
But he slept noa war for th' want o' that,
For he'd done the thing 'at's reet.

Owd fowk called him "awr Benny,"
Young fowk, "mi uncle Ben,"--
An th' childer, "gronfathe